


The World Has Turned and Left Me Here

by orphan_account



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Gary's POV, I'm Sorry, M/M, One Shot, its just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Pete and Gary break up, and Gary gets really sad about it.





	The World Has Turned and Left Me Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of me listening to too much Weezer (hence the title) and being far too eager to make my favourite characters suffer.  
> In this oneshot, Gary feels human emotions, and this is the vent-writing I could've done with a few years ago when I was a dramatic heartbroken teenager.  
> Enjoy! (Or, don't.)

By default or by design, you've always been 'difficult'.  
You think that even if everyone could have the decency to hop on your train of thought for once it still wouldn't make all that much of a difference.  
It feels at times like you were born a ragdoll; brought into the world haphazardly stitched together down the middle - the two halves of you unable to stand each other, pulling in different directions until the tension causes all the threads to finally snap. Your whole life, all you've known is conflict, but it's a civil war too.  
If you've learned anything from history books - and you've learned a fair bit - it's that a country can never fully recover from that kind of disharmony. There'll always be that asshole still waving a confederate flag; there'll always be that part of you still yearning for chaos.  
You'll never get better, no matter how much they try to get you to talk with sincerity or how they try to reign you in and domesticate you. It makes you think that the sum total of all those pills rattling around inside you amounts to nothing - you'd get as much out of gummy vitamins.

They've told you you're coming a long way. You must be, their charts and figures say so, and to anyone on the outside, the big fuck-off scoreboard figuratively following you around and marking the days since the last incident makes you seem like no more than a functioning member of society with an off-kilter sense of humour. Why would they think anything else? It's not like you wear your heart on your sleeve. As far as they're concerned, you have the minimum amount of heart required that you're no longer a cause for concern.

But you can feel every wet, unyielding thump of the terrible thing.

Regardless of how you look on paper, you've still managed to bomb out on what you considered the only real testament to the stability you'd been working on.  
Turns out there isn't much stability to speak of.

One last heated argument that raged on for far too long left to smolder when neither of you can even remember what sparked it. You're exhausted, sitting at the end of his bed staring down at your rigored hands, hoping this might be it for now - that you can both just forget about it and get back to joking around or having awkward teenage sex or getting violently competitive over a videogame and having fun like you're supposed to, because you're meant to be best friends and you fucking love him. Instead, because this is the real world, he rests a cautious, shaky hand on your shoulder. As if he's trying to breach this sensitively; as if you hadn't seen it coming for miles.

You turn around to look him in the eye, trying hard not to keep such a sullen look but it seems like the only facial expressions you know all that well are shit-eating grin or resting bitch face and right now the latter seems more appropriate.  
His big brown eyes are full of regret and god, you think he might actually be crying, and he's beautiful but it's ugly because you hate that he's taking pity on you.

He tells you he's not happy and you don't blame him, because there's only so long you can sit someone on a rollercoaster before they start feeling sick. It's hardly the time for it but you can't help thinking about going to the carnival together and how much he hated the rollercoaster and how you had to hold his hand the whole time and pretend that you thought he was being stupid and hide your eagerness to show him affection at every opportunity. Things like that seem so painfully out of reach right now.

He tells you that he's sorry and you think you believe it, but he _'needs a break.'_  
You wish he'd stop being so fucking nice about it. You wish he'd rip the band-aid off and just let you take it like a man.

There's a million different ways to react, and you're sure he's on tenterhooks not knowing what you'll pick.  
He knows you better than anyone else, that he can tell when you're going to be unpredictable.  
You could delve into your extremes - with tears in your eyes you could beg him to stay, give him a whole spiel about how you'll be better and you'll be normal and as boring as fucking Hopkins if it makes things any better; or you could get angry and blame it all on him, say the most spiteful things you can to wound him and really dig in.

But you don't do either of those things. You just get up, tell him _"alright, if that's how you feel"_ and leave. It's funny, you think, that your problem lies in timing. You're too much at the worst possible times, too much pushing and pulling, too eager and overwhelming - but when it actually matters, you choke up. You go numb.

You're halfway up to the Vale, body working on autopilot when it really dawns on you that this is real, and it's all over. No matter how he said it, you're done for good. The world has turned and left you here.

You resign yourself to it. There's nothing you can do. Even if he was willing to take you back, you love him so you let him go. As it turns out, everyone has a limit, and you pushed him to his.

You're not a believer in karma, but suddenly you regret all the times you laughed at Johnny Vincent for getting so worked up over a stupid girl. You realise in one hellish moment that heartbreak actually really fucking sucks. All of a sudden, your heart drops to the pit of your chest in a crumpled heap and it feels like the ground has been swept from beneath you.

You're so used to people calling you 'psycho' that it's easy to forget sometimes that you even have feelings. You hate being reminded.

Dangling your legs over the edge of the bridge, you wonder if anyone will notice tomorrow when you show up to class sleep-deprived with bruised knuckles from the innocent lamppost you ended up displacing your feelings onto. You wonder if anyone will even care.  
You consider briefly making a real spectacle of yourself from a height like this. Set that days-since-last-incident counter back to zero.  
You decide its melodramatic and besides, you know it would eat Pete alive, and the rational part of your brain says he doesn't deserve that.

You go back to the dorms and try to figure out where you go from here, but the drawing board keeps coming up blank. Since freshman year, all you've known is Pete, and your scheming days are over. All you can think of is that you need to get rid of all the evidence that you were ever together.  
You'll have to get rid of every photo, wash all your clothes until you forget what he smells like. You'll look past him in the halls until he starts to doubt his own existence. You'll never think about his smile or the way he hums along to his favourite songs. You'll never think about drawing circles on his back with your fingertips and the way he'd sigh when you kissed him.

You're thinking about it now, but you tell yourself this is the last time. You'll get Gord to get you some weed from that townie guy he's been seeing - enough to sustain you until you don't care about it anymore. Stupid teenage heartbreak can't last that long, can it? You're pissed off that you even let yourself feel it in the first place.

Maybe you'll actually hook up with that insufferable prep on the rebound. Maybe you'll forget all about Pete.

No. The thought of being with anyone else makes you feel sick. You're not sure you'll ever get over this - you resign yourself to being on your own forever. That's fine, that's what you wanted. You don't need anyone.

Still, you want Pete.  
It's painful holding back the tears by now so you just let go. You can barely breathe and you feel like you'll throw up but you can't stop it. You don't know why your therapist speaks so highly about allowing yourself to feel your emotions. She doesn't know shit. It just hurts.

You wonder if you'll tell her about all this in your next session. Probably not. You don't want to talk about it.

You don't know what you're going to do, because right now it kind of feels like your life is over.  
You're just grateful that the sound of ugly sobbing doesn't carry in the dorms.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out perhaps heavier than I'd have liked but ehh.  
> I am in the process of re-writing a long fic where my boys get together but I felt like writing this and this wouldn't fit in there because they don't break up.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for making it to the end and I'm sorry for the sad!


End file.
